The Virginity Pact

27 - faking it

"Now smile for the cameras."

Confused, my eyes follow his to the several cars pulling up to the pier. Men with cameras hanging around their necks hopping out. A few flashes go off in the distance.

I look back at Trevor. He was obviously expecting them.

I lick my lips and lean back in my seat, raising my eyebrows incredulously. "You called them?"

I've stopped getting hung up on the fact that people occasionally took pictures of me, whether I'm walking out of Neiman Marcus with 6 shopping bags or picking up mangoes at Whole Foods. But I'd never request such like, "Hey! I'm so important; come take pictures of me today on a date!"

Who does that?

I shake my head at myself. Who does that? A teenager who's motivated by pure ambition to fulfill their post-high school dreams, even if it's moderately immoral. Or extremely.

The idea is vaguely familiar.

"Of course. Now, I'm going to lean across the table and kiss you, and you're not going to pull away, got it?" He says slowly.

I grimace. Kiss him. And it'll be all over Instagram and Twitter and Snapchat by the end of the hour.

"That's not a happy face," Trevor says in a sing-song voice, raising a brow. I push a fake smile onto my lips and he mimics it.

"Good girl."

He leans in close and his lips touch mine. I can taste the alcohol on his mouth, and even though I'm not really cheating on Holden, it feels like I am.

The tabloids on the all the street stands will all see a happy high school couple, not even a hint that none of this is real. We're just faking it. I can't think of a single real thing in my life right now. I went looking for a fairytale and got a living nightmare.

++++++

Becca chews her bottom lip as she scrolls through Pinterest on her iPad, her knees up to her chest as Harper lays beside her on her phone. It's hard for her to focus on planning an amazing party when she has so many questions about what she heard in the hall the other day.

The suns setting and Harpers curtains are still pulled open to let in the remaining light from the sun as the sky turns a mix of colors.

"What do you think about an ice sculpture?" Becca asks, regaining her train of thought. Harper glances up at her for a second.

"Whatever you want, Becca. You're planning it, not me," she says, sitting up and stretching. She hadn't moved from that position in a half hour. "I'll be right back."

Harper exits her room to use the bathroom, leaving Becca alone. She huffs, making a mental note to order an ice sculpture with just the numbers 1 and 7, as she moves on to the guest list.

Harpers phone dings a few inches away, and Becca can't help but let her eyes wander to the screen.

Holden?

The contact name makes her heart beat faster. It makes her anxious to remember she'd witnessed something she wasn't supposed to, and no one knew. On top of that, she doesn't even know what she witnessed or why.